Old Joy
by Phano
Summary: Post-mockingjay, pre-epilogue. Katniss doesn't know how to deal with her feelings for Peeta, especially when she doesn't see him very often. M for later chapters


**A/N: This is my first HG fic – it's been quite a long time since I wrote fanfic, so please let me know what you think. I plan to make it a bit more fluffy in later chapters but I wanted to explore how Katniss felt a bit after everything. So, hope you enjoy **

Old Joy

'Try to eat'

A voice is breaking through the fog in my brain. It's not even really dreaming I guess, just thinking too deeply for a long time, with nothing to break the howling silence. This is the opposite of repressing the horrors that roam in my mind. Most days, I don't fight, I hand myself over to them, and spend the day a mute slave, staring at the floor, just remembering again and again. I shake my head to try and disturb the fog, get back a little bit of reality.

'Huh?'

Greasy Sae places her weathered hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with concern. This is the motherly side that she never shows in the hob. In her other hand is a steaming bowl of thick stew – rabbit I think, with some carrots and wild greens. Now that the fence is down, someone must be taking my place in the meadow and on the edge of the woods, snaring a few careless animals. People like Sae always have their sources I guess – it's what keeps them feeding everyone else even in a burned-out wreck like District 12.

'Try to eat. It's good, I promise. You're so thin these days'

I force a thin smile and take the bowl, breathing in the smells of home. I can't remember the last time I ate. Maybe a few days ago, some bread Sae liberated from Peeta, half an apple here and there. I don't get hungry very often. Suddenly though, my mouth is watering, and now doesn't seem like the time for the capitol table manners Effie would insist on. I gulp the meat and gravy straight from the bowl, dribbling a few drops down my cheeks, my chin and my front.

Sea grins triumphantly, turning back to the sink to wash a few dishes. I drain the bowl and wipe my face on my shirt. The food settling in my growling stomach wakes me up a bit.

'What day is it, Sae?'

'Thursday – all day' she sighs into the washing up bowl.

_Peeta_. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I remember. He was supposed to be coming back. He spends a lot of time working on the rebuilding in the centre of the district, and often sleeps in the makeshift accommodation that has sprung up near where the hob used to be. I think being around other people helps him forget. Didn't Sae mention he was coming back on Thursdays? I don't remember. How long has it been since I've seen him, or spoken to him? A couple of weeks, maybe a month? The primroses he planted in front of the house are still cared for by someone, and a few days ago I saw a light in his kitchen window.

These thoughts must have changed something in my face, because Sae is looking at me with interest.

'Do I have stew on me?'

'Yes, everywhere' she says flatly 'but it's good to see you smile'.

After Sae leaves, I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to sit back down somehow. I stand at the empty sink, watching the bubbles slip down the drain. Eventually I look up to the window. It's starting to get dark; the last orange fingers of sunset are slipping over the horizon. In the half-light, I can see a figure coming up the path from town. He walks with a weary limp on his artificial leg after a long day and his clothes are filthy. His face is streaked with dust and sweat where he's attempted to wipe it out of his eyes. It dawns on me that I've been waiting for him.

This doesn't feel as comfortable as I want it to. I don't want him to see me. I don't know if I want to see him after so long. It's not what I look like – even though I know I'm in a similar state to him right now. I can't risk relying on anyone that heavily. This is one thing that came to me through the last foggy weeks. I've always been the one doing the looking after. For my mother and Prim. Even, at some points, for Peeta. But as we got to know each other, it's become more of a mutual thing. We support each other, lean on each other. Not so much like parent and child. But more like equals. This is the sort of thing that I never thought I would have, even through the sham of our capitol love and upcoming wedding. Well, it _was_ a mutual thing. I don't know what it is now.

I duck down before he sees me. It's obvious that I'm here, the dying firelight reflects off of the kitchen window. Sitting on the floor, I listen to his hobbling footfalls crunch past the front of my house, and stomp up his front steps and inside his house. I try to think. I do want to see him. I was waiting for him. I _miss_ him.

I tread lightly up the stairs to my room and rifle through a pile of clean clothes Sae has left on the bed. A clean, loose-fitting shirt and trousers sits close to the bottom. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Wild hair, stained clothes, sunken eyes. Normally this wouldn't bother me, but somehow, I don't want to look helpless. Even if he knows better about me, I can try. I strip my filthy clothes and kick them in the corner, dragging on the new ones. I slowly wash my greasy face in the bathroom and braid my hair. Better. I could still use a bath maybe, but it's a definite improvement.

I slip on a pair of soft leather boots, and head out into the warm spring night. Outside Peeta's house, I take a deep breath. I don't know why I'm nervous. It's just Peeta. I raise my hand to knock, before mentally kicking myself and gently pushing the door open.

The kitchen is cold, and though reasonably tidy, obviously not lived in very often. I can hear Peeta shuffling around upstairs, and hear the shower stutter into life. Maybe now isn't a good time. I think about leaving, since he obviously doesn't know I'm here. I eye the empty fireplace. Maybe I could just light it, and leave him a note or something. Or just talk for a minute maybe.

I gather paper and kindling from around the fireplace, and fumble around for matches. Finding a box by the sink, I start coaxing the fire into life, adding more wood and a few lumps of precious coal until there is a small and stable blaze. It feels good to be doing something with my hands other than staring at them and waiting for night to fall. I smile at the crackling flames.

'Katniss!'

Oh. Peeta. Right. I get up and turn around too quickly, maybe not as agile as I was, to face him. He looks a bit perplexed, but he's smiling. For a moment I am so focussed on his face that I don't realise that all he is wearing is a towel around his waist.

'Er..sorry' I mumble, looking down

'It's okay' He sounds almost relieved 'I missed you'

I look up and he's smiling. For a second I take him in, his damp blond hair starting to curl, his broad chest and shoulders, his big, capable hands. I remember how good he used to smell.

'Maybe you could stay for dinner? He says hopefully

'Sure'

He comes towards me, and i wonder what he's going to do before he awkwardly motions to a basket of folded, clean clothes behind me. I shuffle out of the way as he rummages in it. As he turns back to me, before i know what I'm doing, I hug him, pressing my cheek to his chest. He drops the clothes, pulling me closer, pressing his lips into my hair. His hands are warm and steady on my back, his heart thuds soothingly under my cheek. I never thought seeing him again would feel like this. Not awkward or forced. It feels like home.

I pull back slightly to see his face. He's smiling softly, looking peaceful, almost, for the first time in a long time.

'I really did miss you, you know'

'I know' I pause for a second before adding 'I missed you too'

TBC


End file.
